


If only she...

by diogorivers



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-19 16:16:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1476049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diogorivers/pseuds/diogorivers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre-S4 drabble around Richard's perception of Isobel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If only she...

_Say I wouldn't care if you walked away,  
But everytime you're there I'm begging you to stay (…)_

She may be far from what I deem possible. She walks and talks and breathes like any other woman I’ve ever known – and I’ve known a handful; yet it seems like this one has something different. She walks differently. She talks differently. She breathes differently. She’s different.

I’ve never seen a woman stand up for herself and for what she thinks is right so easily, not minding who’s there to hear her, who’s there to face her. She’s unstoppable. I’ve admired women like her in the past. But she stands above, taller than the rest. I couldn’t lose her in the middle of a crowd. It’s like she’s the center of everything where she is – to my eyes and heart, at least.

She misunderstood, but I understand her. She’s sad but I want to lift that weight out of her shoulders. She’s swimming and I’m swimming right beside her. And even though she can hardly look at me the way I look at her, loving eyes, eyes that long for more than a kind stare, I find peace in the notion that at least I get to talk to her. I’m blessed. I am truly blessed.

I’m blessed mostly because she talks with me. She does let me speak my mind while she speak hers, and when I’m alone, I often recall every word she speaks – her sweet tone feels like musing, engraved on the back of my mind.

I’m blessed mostly because I can be with her. Even if only a few steps away, even if she’s not in my arms with my hands caressing her face and hands. Those eyes, those beautiful eyes, they’ve seen pain and love and sometimes both at the same time. I want them to see my love. I want them to see me.

Do I love Isobel? I don’t know. Do I? Yes. Perhaps. Most certainly. It’s a love that hurts, it’s a love that pours. It’s like the rain, cold, dripping, water falling on our warm bodies. If only she knew.

If only she felt.

If only she loved.


End file.
